A Penny Saved is a Penny Spurned
by DarkwingPsycho
Summary: Camille Chameleon has escaped and is out for revenge! This time she has her sights set on bigger fish, and it's up to Darkwing to stop her despite being out of his element. That, plus Gizmoduck's repeated attempts to interfere. Please R&R!
1. Escape

**A Penny Saved is a Penny Spurned**

**By Amanda Rohrssen aka DarkwingPsycho**

_**Chapter One: Escape**_

The St. Canard Maximum Security Terrarium. Home of some of the most despicable mammals, crustaceans, arachnids, and reptiles the state of Calisota had ever seen. It wasn't a very well known penitentiary, as there were few who fit the sorts of inmates held there. It was a specialized prison where those criminals with unique physiques and abilities were kept separated from the regular felon fare.

There had been few breakouts in its decades-long history, and the terrarium prided itself on its top-notch technology and security. That pride took a blow, however, the previous evening when one particular villain escaped without leaving any evidence as to how. The warden and his officers were so baffled by the break out that they called in the only person they could think of with inside information on the inmate in question. The very vigilante who had brought the criminal to justice.

"Never fear, gentlemen, Darkwing Duck is at your service!" the costumed crime-fighter declared as he entered the room with a sweep of his cape. He was followed closely by his sidekick.

The warden looked relieved and extended a hand toward Darkwing. "Darkwing Duck, thank goodness you're here! We've been studying this cell for almost twelve hours and have come up with nothing! There's no way she could have escaped."

"But she did," Darkwing reminded him bluntly. "I've dealt with this slippery serpent before, warden. I'm sure I'll have her back behind bars…er, glass…in no time!" He pulled out his super-duper magnifying glass and began hunting around the glass tank that had housed The Chameleon. "Hmmm…hmm…" he mused with interest. "And you say your boys had this tank surrounded by steel bars and laser sensors?"

The warden nodded.

"And the temperature was set to 97°F?"

Again, Darkwing received a nod. The hero continued searching and speculating.

"So she couldn't have used her transformation powers…"

"Is there anyone that you know of on the outside that might have aided her?" the warden asked curiously.

Darkwing straightened and shook his head. "The Chameleon worked alone, as far as I could tell. She, herself, admitted to me she didn't have any friends. Tell me, warden, what do the cameras show?"

"That's just it," the warden replied with some shame in his voice. "We were doing some repair work on the camera system last night. We thought it would be secure enough with the lasers, bars, and glass in place. As it was, the cameras were only out for about fifteen minutes, but…"

"All of your other detainees are accounted for?"

The warden nodded. "Yes. Only Camille was missing when the guard made his rounds."

"I'll need anything that she received while incarcerated. Letters, packages, phone transcriptions…"

"But Darkwing," the warden interrupted, "she was a lizard…couldn't speak or write, and you said it yourself. She didn't have any friends."

Darkwing cringed at his own slip-up, but cleared his throat and shook it off. "Ahem, well, yes. But you never know with these criminal types. Every angle, however impossible, must be looked at!"

"Hey DW!" Darkwing's sidekick, Launchpad McQuack, called from the other side of the glass tank. "Take a look at this!"

The hero rounded the small enclosure to peek in where Launchpad was pointing.

"There's a tiny lake and mini-trees, an' even a sunlamp! Pretty swanky set-up for a prison!"

"Yeah, that's great, LP," Darkwing replied, unamused. He'd hoped that his sidekick had found more useful information.

"And look! There's even one of those little margarita umbrellas!" Launchpad tapped the tank where the paper sunblocker was, only to have an odd-shaped piece of glass fall from where he'd touched it into the tank. "Whoops…"

Darkwing gasped and aimed his magnifying glass at the hole the pilot had just created. "Launchpad, do you realize what you've done?"

"Uh…gee, sorry, DW, I was just lookin' at the –"

"You've discovered how our fleeing felon took flight!"

"I did?" Launchpad chuckled slightly and stood up to his full height a bit proudly. "Oh well, heh, heh, heh, glad I could help out."

"I don't see anything," the warden said from behind them both, looking pointedly at the glass.

Darkwing smirked smugly and moved to the side while keeping his magnifying glass next to the tank. "Take a closer look, warden." While the terrarium supervisor leaned in, the hero continued. "Notice if you will the distinct shape of the hole in the glass that you see before you. See anything out of the ordinary?"

The warden blinked. "Why yes! It's –"

"That's right, warden, the hole is chameleon-shaped! The perfect size for our escaped miscreant to crawl through!"

"But even if she could get out of the tank, how did she get past our laser security and the cell bars?"

At this, Darkwing eyed the room a bit more closely, then raised his index finger into the air as a theory came to mind. "Camille seemed a bit more…acrobatic than most of the villains I've faced. I wouldn't be surprised if she contorted herself through your laser system and then just crawled through the bars." He bent down nearer the thick metal bars surrounding The Chameleon's cell, then glanced up at the warden. "You really should think about respacing these."

"But she didn't crawl through the bars. The guard found her cell door wide open…"

Darkwing stood back up and brandished his magnifying glass as if it were a sword, trying to make up for the fact that he couldn't yet explain for certain how Camille's mysterious prison break had occurred. "My sidekick and I are professionals, warden," he stated reassuringly. "The question we need to be focusing on is not _how_ she escaped, but _where_ she is now."

"Hey look, DW, the funny pages!" Launchpad said happily as he reached into the tank and pulled out a section of shredded newspaper. "It's yesterday's, too! I didn't get around to my daily Frankie Ferret…"

The warden's lip curled in disgust as he watched Launchpad finger the paper. "That's what we put in there for her to, ahem, _relieve_ herself on."

"Relieve herself? I'll bet she could use a good laugh being in…" Launchpad paused when he realized exactly what the prison official meant. "Oh." He instantly let the pieces of newsprint fall back into the tank.

"Wait a minute!" Darkwing said hurriedly, rushing to the side his partner was on and reaching back in for more shredded articles. "I remember something from yesterday's news!" He dug around for a few moments while the officers that were observing in the cell nearly went white with nausea. "Ah ha! Here we go."

The headline read: **McDuck to Buy Howl Publishing Empire**.

"That lecherous lizard could be after Mrs. Howl's printing presses again to cash in on counterfeit currency!"

"How can you be so sure, DW?" Launchpad inquired curiously.

Darkwing looked dubiously at his sidekick. "I'm not, LP, but it's the only lead we've got so far. To The Daily Examiner!" Then he glanced sheepishly at his palms. "…But first we should probably find some hand sanitizer…"

*****

From the moment he met Mrs. Howl, Darkwing knew she was going to be a handful. He grimaced and tried to remind himself that this was an important case, and the key to capturing the culprit was this canine connoisseur.

Mrs. Howl wrapped her fur shawl more closely around her shoulders and waddled toward the window of her executive office, which had a very impressive view of downtown St. Canard.

"Mr. Darkwing, while I appreciate the offer of your services, I feel that the police will be quite capable in handling any necessary security measures while I am meeting with Mr. McDuck later this afternoon.

"Madam," said Darkwing evenly, trying to keep the huffiness out of his voice, "with all due respect, I don't think you understand the severity of the situation. The Chameleon targeted you the last time she was out."

"Yes," Mrs. Howl agreed, turning to give a stout glare at the masked vigilante. "And as I recall, it took you at least three hours after commandeering her to remember that I was still tied up in my home while she pretended to be me!"

Darkwing was only flustered for a moment. "Ah…well…yes, that's true, bu-but I was _personally_ escorting Camille to the Maximum Security Terrarium! There wasn't _time _to –"

"A fat lot of good that did. I've seen where your priorities lie, Mr. Darkwing, and I'll thank you to leave me out of your glory-hounding. Good day!"

"Mrs. Howl, I assure you that –"

"I said, '_Good day_!'"

"Gee, DW," Launchpad commented as they walked out of the newspaper building together. "Who do you think spit in her coffee this morning?"

"I don't know, but if that old crone thinks she can keep Darkwing Duck from following through on this case, she's got another thing coming! Can you believe she called me a glory-hound? Me!"

"Yeah…" Launchpad cleared his throat, but his tone was a bit sardonic. "She was way off the mark."

Darkwing raised an eyebrow at his sidekick, then sighed. "We've got to find a way to ensure that Mrs. Howl stays safe without her knowing we're doing it! Even if it means stalking her like a fanboy with a fur fetish."

"I dunno, DW, that sounds a little weird."

"That may be, but if we're going to catch that criminal chameleon, we've got to do it! Come on, Launchpad…let's get vigilant!"

*****

While Darkwing and Launchpad were busily spying on Mrs. Howl from one rooftop, there was another figure on a neighboring rooftop looking in on them.

"Drat!" Camille hissed when she spotted the caped crusader and the pilot through the binoculars she was holding. "It'ssss that massssked buffoon again! Well, thissss time he won't sssstop me from getting my revenge!" She glanced at her watch and smiled deviously. "Only a few more hourssss until McDuck showssss up. Then the fun beginssss…"

* * *

_Author's Note: _Poor Camille. She never gets any fanfic love! I thought she was a pretty decent villain, so I decided to devise a little story starring her. It's going to be a DuckTales crossover, too, so things should be quite interesting the further along the story goes! Please R&R! I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	2. Disguises and Surprises

**A Penny Saved is a Penny Spurned**

**By Amanda Rohrssen AKA DarkwingPsycho**

_**Chapter Two: Disguises and Surprises**_

"But Unca Scrooge, you promised you'd come watch our baseball game later today!"

"Yeah, we're playing our rivals, The Beagle Brats!"

"It's the biggest match of the season!"

Three identical ducklings chased after their great uncle, who was making his way toward a lavish automobile. His butler, Duckworth, stood holding the back door open while Scrooge climbed inside.

"Now lads," said Scrooge as he stuck his head out of the window, top hat and all. "I made a promise an' I intend teh keep it. My meeting should put me back in Duckburg right on time for the first pitch of your baseball game."

One of the triplets looked down at the ground dejectedly. "Can't you reschedule the meeting for tomorrow?"

"Mrs. Howl is a stiff competitor, Dewey, an' this is the first time she's agreed teh meet with me in months. If I don't go now, the window of opportunity could close forever. An' I need her publishing company teh give me a strong foothold in St. Canard."

"Aww, okay, Unca Scrooge…" Dewey replied in the same sullen tone.

"Just don't be late!" Louie chimed in.

"I won't," Scrooge reassured them. "You boys be good for Mrs. Beakley, an' I'll see yeh all at the game later tonight."

"Goodbye, Unca Scrooge!" the triplets called out with a wave as they watched Duckworth drive away.

As his mansion shrank into the background, the quadzillionaire slid down into the plush cushions of the limo's back seat with a sigh. "Ah, they're such good lads," he observed to himself. "If everything goes as planned, this meeting will make me even richer. I can expand mah business enterprise inteh St. Canard with ease. I'll make Mrs. Howl an offer she canno' refuse…!"

* * *

"What d'yeh mean you refuse?!" Scrooge exclaimed incredulously.

He'd been in Mrs. Howl's office for the better part of an hour negotiating when he'd finally laid out his best offer. Instead of snatching it up as he'd expected, Mrs. Howl seemed offended.

"Mr. McDuck, this is my entire _empire_ we're talking about here! I have publication sites all over the world, delivering to millions of readers! How could I possibly sell to someone who lowballs me like that?"

"Lowballs?!" Now Scrooge was offended. "Now see here, yeh greedy –"

"You can't talk to me that way!" Mrs. Howl cried. "I want at least _twice_ what you're offering, or no deal!"

"Mrs. Howl, no publishing company has ever been purchased for that much cash! I may as well start mah _own_ in St. Canard!"

"Ha! As if you could get it off the ground! _My_—" The buzzer on Mrs. Howl's desk went off, and the agitated woman pressed a button to answer. "Yes?"

"Delivery, Mrs. Howl. It's flowers."

"Why, how nice!" Mrs. Howl gushed, instantly seeming in better spirits. "Send them in!"

A young man entered behind a large vase of callow lilies.

"Here on the edge of the desk is fine," Mrs. Howl said as she pointed. "Oh, they're lovely!" She leaned down to smell them, then began looking them over eagerly. She frowned when she didn't find what she was looking for. "But…who are they from?"

The delivery boy shrugged, "Uh, probably a ssssecret admirier." He accepted her tip, then began to walk toward the door.

"How nice. Aren't they beautiful, Mr. McDuck?"

"Aye," he replied, trying to be patient. "But not as beautiful as a new business investment. Can we get back to the matter at hand?"

While the two went right back into haggling, the delivery boy picked up Scrooge's top hat from the hat rack and smiled deviously.

"Mrs. Howl, you seem like a reasonable businesswoman. Why don't we both give it a day to think it over, an' we can meet back in Duckburg to discuss it again?" Scrooge suggested, trying to be amiable.

"I'll make this very simple for you, McDuck," Mrs. Howl replied tightly. "Either you double your offer, or we're done talking. You can show yourself out."

Scrooge was about to make a biting retort, but held his tongue. If nothing else, he had at least the rest of the evening to figure out a way to get this woman to break. Grumbling to himself, Scrooge stalked out of the office and grabbed his top hat on the way out.

* * *

"Might I suggest, sir, that the point of attending a baseball game is to actually watch the game in progress?"

Scrooge looked over at his butler, annoyance written across his face. "I don't pay yeh for your 'suggestions,' Duckworth," he declared. "Why don't yeh make yourself useful an' hold that umbrella steady? The sun glaring on these business documents is beginning to affect mah eyes."

"Very good, sir," Duckworth replied flatly as he opened an umbrella to shade his employer.

"_Who's got the spirit? Who's got the luck? Who's gonna stop'em? The Junior Woodchucks!_" The nearest team in blue and red cheered, throwing up their mitts and balls and catching them in anticipation of the game.

Across from them, wearing red and green, the Beagle Brats sat with devious smiles, chanting, "_Nice guys finish last!_"

The announcer came over the speakers to introduce players and hail the start of the game, but Scrooge was too busy pouring over documents to notice. Next to him sat his top hat, which inconspicuously began to sidle away from him. Its rim bent like a caterpillar and inched through the bleachers until it fell through the steps. Right before it hit the ground, the hat shifted and popped, suddenly becoming a pale lizard woman with blue hair tied loosely back in a ponytail.

"Ugh, finally," she muttered. "I thought I'd never get off of his sweaty head." She peered through the space between the bleachers, thinking aloud to herself. "Now let's see. Unlessss I want to sit here for nine innings, I need to figure out where McDuck'ssss money bin is." From her sweater pocket she pulled a pair of binoculars, which she then used to scan the Duckburg skyline. It wasn't until she looked past center field away from the downtown area that she saw it. A tall white building with a red dome atop which sat a dollar sign, which also doubled as Scrooge's logo. "There it is!" she exclaimed earnestly. "Now all I have to do is get inside, and McDuck's fortune will be mine!"

Once she'd made certain she was where no one could see her, she transformed into a cyclist duck and sped off in the direction she'd seen the money bin.

* * *

By the time she made it up the winding road to the bin, Camille was completely out of breath. "Once I've got Scrooge's millions," she wheezed, "I should look into a perssssonal trainer." She tossed the bike to the side and trudged up toward the entrance. Just before she could try her luck with the combination keypad, the door opened and a jovial-looking duck dressed in a purple suit jacket and green vest sauntered through.

"Hiya, Mr. McDuck!" he greeted Camille, who had just barely managed to pop into Scrooge's form before he'd seen her.

"Oh, uh, h-hello," Camille responded, still recovering from being caught off guard.

Fenton raised an eyebrow at the fake Scrooge. "You workin' late today?"

"Uh, yes! I am! A millionaire's work is never done," she said matter-of-factly, hoping the duck would buy it.

He looked back at her curiously. "You feelin' all right, Mr. McDuck? You sound kinda sick."

"Oh, it's nothing, uh…jusssst a cold," she reassured him, darting her eyes from side to side.

Fenton shrugged. "All right. Say, I just crunched the numbers on that Scaup account, ya wanna go over'em since we're both here?"

"Maybe ssssome other time," she said, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice. Did this ridiculously-dressed duck see through her disguise?

"Okay. If you're sure."

"Yes," Camille affirmed with a nod. "Quite sure."

"Well then, catchya tomorrow at the meeting, Mr. McDuck!"

"Meeting? What meeting?" she asked curiously.

"The one you called me about a little while ago! You know, with Mrs. Howl."

"Oh, er, right. That one."

"Are you sure you're feeling all right, Mr. McDuck?"

"Fine. Uh, see you tomorrow."

She watched with narrowed eyes as the accountant strode away from the building with a jaunty air. That had been too close for comfort. Her Scottish accent wasn't the greatest, but it would have to make do until she could take what she came for. Now the only thing standing between her and a quadzillion dollars was the bin's security system.

What would Scrooge use as a passcode?

First she attempted M-C-D-U-C-K in numbers, only to have it bleep harshly at her and blink a few times before returning to normal. Her next two attempts proved just as fruitless.

"Ugh, I could waste _hours_ trying to figure out this stupid thing!" she hissed angrily. She thought for a few seconds, then an idea popped into her head. In an instant, instead of the form of Scrooge, she was wearing the body of a huge, muscle-ridden thug. "Maybe it just needs a bit of TLC!" As she enunciated the last phrase, she swung her meaty fist onto the keypad, shattering its numbers and small screen and causing sparks to sputter out of its nook.

All of a sudden, a piercing alarm resounded throughout the property, and multiple cameras sprang up out of the grass as spotlights blasted the area with blinding brightness. Within seconds, a robotic duck with a giant propeller on his head landed on the scene, and struck a alert pose as he looked in every direction.

"All right, who is it this time? The Beagle Boys? Magica DeSpell? I --_Gizmoduck! _– shall put a stop to your evil deeds!"

The large tire at the base of his Gizmosuit transported him quickly over the path toward the entrance and smashed panel. He stopped when he spotted someone.

"Mr. McDuck?!"

Camille, now posing once again at Scrooge, took a couple of steps backward. She'd heard of Gizmoduck but had never seen him in person. She wondered if he was as intelligent as his suit would imply.

"It seems there was an attempt to break into the money bin! Did you see the crooks?"

"Uh, er, yes!" Camille piped up. "He ran over that way."

"What did the villain look like? Was he wearing a mask?"

Camille pondered the last question, then smiled cunningly to herself. There was only one person she could think of right then who wore a mask…

"Yes, a purple one," she said in her best Scrooge impersonation. "He was alsssso wearing a cape."

"A cape, you say?" Gizmoduck repeated thoughtfully. "Interesting. Fear not, Mr. McDuck! I – _Gizmoduck!_ – shall have the criminal in custody in no time!" He began to roll away, but paused to add, "You know, you should go home and have some soup or something, it sounds like you might be losing your voice!"

"Oh, uh, yes. Good idea."

Camille watched Gizmoduck roll away into the distance. "Hmm," she thought aloud to herself. "It seems if I want to get into the bin, I'm going to need the right code. And to get that, I'll need to make a pitstop at Sssscrooge's mansion…"

* * *

"I can't believe we lost!" Huey wailed as he and the rest of the family made their way up the driveway and into the house.

"Yeah, and we only needed _one point_ to tie!" Louie agreed miserably.

"If only it hadn't been up to Doofus to hit that last pitch," Dewey observed. "We might've had a chance!"

"He should've used that creampuff trick that Duckworth taught him," Louie continued. "It sure came in handy the last time we played the Beagle Brats!"

"I wonder why he didn't," Huey thought aloud.

Louie shrugged. "I dunno, maybe he was full?"

Dewey laughed. "Are you kidding? That's impossible!"

The three of them broke into a fit of giggles, their first smiles since losing the big game.

"You boys shouldn't be so concerned with winning," Scrooge chimed in. "After all, you can't win every game."

"We don't wanna win _every_ game, Unca Scrooge," Huey explained, still smiling. "We just wanna win against the Beagle Brats! They only win games 'cause they cheat."

"Well, do no' worry, boys," Scrooge said reassuringly. "All that cheatin'll catch up with them in the end. Now, why don't you boys go and wash up before supper? I hear Mrs. Beakley's made m' favorite haggis stew tonight!"

Three stomachs did a queasy somersault as the triplets groaned and made their way upstairs to their room. Scrooge moved into the makeshift office in the front of the house while Duckworth went to take care of something in another part of the house. Meanwhile, another figure crept into the mansion through the back door.

"Ah, there you are, Mr. McDuck," Mrs. Beakley stated in her musical voice. "You simply _must_ try some of this haggis stew I made for you. I know it's your favorite."

Camille felt her insides twist with nausea. "Uh, uh, no thank you," she declined hurriedly, backing away from the spoon the nanny thrust toward her bill. "I-I'm not hungry!"

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Beakley insisted. "You're just worried about hurting my feelings!" Without wasting another second, Mrs. Beakley shoved the spoon into Camille's protesting bill. "There now," she declared, "I can take any criticism you can dish out, so let's have it."

Camille's feathers went a yellow-green color, and before she could even say another work, she had to run out of the room and find a bathroom lest she leave a puddle of regurgitated stew in the middle of the kitchen.

"He's speechless!" Mrs. Beakley said gleefully. "I'll bet he likes it so much, he's gone to tell the boys!"

After retching a few times, Camille finally felt up to emerging from the bathroom. "Well," she muttered to herself, "now at least I know to stay out of the kitchen." She peered around the corner tentatively. "I mussst find out where McDuck is hiding that code!"

It wasn't long before she came across more members of the household.

"Uncle Scrooge?" The voice was sickly-sweet, dripping with innocence and selflessness. It made Camille shutter. "Do you think I could maybe get a puppy the next time we drive by the shelter? Me an' my Quackypatch doll have been practicing puppy-care on my other dollies!"

"Er, sure, kid," Camille replied diffidently. She just wanted this pink-thing out of her path. "Whatever you want."

Webby grinned from ear to ear and giggled in her high-pitched voice. "Oh, thank you, Uncle Scrooge!"

Camille inched around Webby, as if afraid her pure spirit was contagious, and continued down the hallway looking for a room that might contain what she was looking for. "How many rooms does one duck need?" she grumbled.

When she rounded yet another corner, she nearly ran headlong into Huey, Dewey, and Louie.

"There you are, Unca Scrooge!"

"We wanna talk to you about something."

"Yeah!"

"Y-you do?" Camille questioned, wondering if she'd blown her cover.

"Do we _hafta _eat that haggis stuff?

"It gives all of us indigestion!"

"Can we have hamburgers instead!"

"Pleeeeaaaaase?" they all begged in unison.

All of these children were beginning to get on Camille's nerves. "Buy yourselves an entire _franchise_, I don't care!" she cried, pushing past them. "Jusssst leave me alone!"

"Boy, what's got Unca Scrooge in such a rotten mood?"

"I don't know, Louie, but maybe it would be better if we stayed in our room until dinnertime."

Louie gripped his stomach with a squeamish expression. "Ugh, don't remind us about dinner…"

* * *

_Author's Note: _Chapter Two! It ends kinda abruptly, I know. Honestly, I just wanted to get something up. :P I got the Junior Woodchucks' chant from the DuckTales episide "Take Me Out of the Ballgame," if anyone's curious. Also, I realize I didn't yet add in the standard, "I don't own these characters, blahblahblah." They're all copyright Disney, no OC's in sight! Well, unless you count the warden at the beginning. ;) Anyhoo, please R&R and let me know how you think this story's progressing so far! I'm still kinda making it up as I go. ;)


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